Yeah, neither do I.
Bed rest and extreme taking-it-easiness have not been kind to my fitness plans. I'm sure physical therapy helped a little, but I had to stop that two or three months ago. I can't walk for more than a minute without crutches and I can't sit for more than fifteen minutes or so. This makes extreme gym work very difficult, as you can imagine.
The good news is that I've been totally having "Rocky" moments in my own brain recently.
I got cleared to walk, with crutches, for up to fifteen minutes on a track. Two weeks ago, I joined a gym to do just that. I motor around the track, listening to books on my iPhone. The first time I did seven laps in fifteen minutes and I was so excited thinking that eight laps was a mile. I was still fast, even with crutches! Who needs an intact muscular system? Not this lady.
Then I found out that a mile was sixteen times around the track. Ooofff. Dreams of accidental fitness squashed.
I walk slowly around the track getting passed by senior citizens and stroke patients. It's a little humbling. But as I walk, I imagine how great it's going to feel when I finally get my body back to working order. I'll walk around the track or on a treadmill and remember the days when I dragged myself around at a snail's pace, pain with every step. Talk about starting from rock bottom!
Of course, because I'm me, this little mental trip ends with me on the medal platform at the 2020 Olympics, age 42, tears rolling down my face, gold medal shining on my chest, and the national anthem blaring.
Right now, I'm happy to feel like I'm getting fit again, one teeny tiny step at a time.